The Velvet Underground

OBVERSE, REVERSE, INVERSE, PERVERSE. A whiplash girl-child waits in the dark, splintered in blue fragments, pinpricks of white heat. The Velvet Underground cauterized their time, searing the bloodstream of hedonism and frustration. Theirs was a demimonde, offering salvation in place of morality, ends justified by means. To be real, they vowed, pitting the absurd against the vulgar. The black angel would peal its death song, sufferance and understanding as final reward, while terror and certainty fused in scenes of rumbling destruction, buildings toppling, cities left smouldering in ruins.